


Lagniappe

by Stargirl4Ever



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Cajun French, F/M, Gambit is so much fun to write, Gambling, Kissing, Mutant Reader, New Orleans, Romance, cajun accent, terms of endearment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stargirl4Ever/pseuds/Stargirl4Ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you get lost one night in New Orleans, you head to a bar to try to figure out where to go. A mysterious Cajun man by the name of Remy LeBeau has taken interest in you, and does his best to help you out, asking for a little extra in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lagniappe

**Author's Note:**

> This was really fun to write, and I hope I captured a little bit of the New Orleans city's essence in this story. Gambit is genuine Cajun, and I hope I translated his accent and mannerisms into words well. It'll make more sense in later the story, but one of the Gambit's powers is the ability to charm and subtly persuade whoever he's talking to, and he can make people do whatever he wants them to do. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, lagniappe, pronounced "Lahn yop", means "something extra" or "a little something more" in Creole/Louisiana French. And don't go into New Orleans cemeteries at night, for real. Thanks!

The name of the bar was _Dizé_. Despite having thoroughly studied the map of the surrounding areas, you were hopelessly lost. It was dark out now, and being slightly worried for your safety, you stayed inside the bar.

Being alone in a semi-crowded bar was better than being alone and wandering aimlessly in an unfamiliar city. You had searched for your hotel for over an hour in the flat streets of the city, but it was kind of like the hotel had up and vanished. Also, the locals didn’t know cardinal directions or the hotel name.

You were sitting on a bench at a small table in the corner, not drinking, but eating a sugar-dusted beignet. People were dancing to the sultry live Southern Gothic music, and you could see smoke moving around the room like fog. It wasn’t your typical joint, but it allowed you to see New Orleans from a local’s perspective. No fanny-packs or cameras in sight. You were probably the only tourist in the bar, but you could blend in pretty well you discovered during this vacation.

You were picking up the different dialects, some sounding almost like the accents you heard in New Jersey. Others sounded like botched French accents, and others like they just stepped off a Georgian plantation in the 1800s.

There was an interesting game of poker going on in the middle of the small room. Poker and craps were invented in New Orleans, so almost every bar had some gambling game going on in the back.

Now, you didn’t understand a thing about poker, aside from it’s stereotypes or what they showed in the media, but it looked like fun. The guys playing looked like pros, keeping purposely held serious faces. 

A man sitting at the ovular poker table caught your attention in particular. He was facing you, but he was busy with his gambling. His accent was kind of different from everyone else’s, and you recognised it to be Cajun. Bits of F _rançais Cadien_ snuck into his thick dialogue when he spoke. He looked a lot more handsome than the stereotypical swamp person did.

He had long auburn hair that fell forward, covering part of his attractive face. He wore a dark brown trenchcoat and black leather fingerless gloves, and he had a certain _je ne sais quoi_. You couldn’t really tell what color his eyes were, but from here they looked dark.

He suddenly looked up at you, a smirk playing across his features. You looked away immediately, feeling heat spread across your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose. You could imagine his smile had widened a bit in success at flustering you. When you dared to sneak a glance back at him, he was looking back at the game.

You finished the delicious beignet, and decided that you should probably retry the search for your hotel. You told yourself that you’d stay only on the brightly lit streets. Besides, you had superpowers, being a mutant after all.

It sounded like the poker game was over, and it appeared that the Cajun had won. Some of the bystanders mentioned that it was “suicide to go against dat _démon_ ”. You figured that the “ _démon_ ” was the man who had won.

You began to take your leave, going to the bartender to pay for the pastries you’d eaten. You reached into your pocket for the wallet with your money (you didn’t carry a purse in fear of it getting stolen), but you were interrupted.

"Lemme pay for dat, cher.” The man said, close to you. You knew it was the lucky Cajun gambler by the way he pronounced the word “cher” as “ _sha_ ”.

You turned your head to him, seeing him in close proximity for the first time. The first thing you noticed was his bizarre dark eyes and burning red pupils. And his charming smirk. You had been ready to refuse his offer, but the desire to turn him down melted away as if by magic. Even though his eyes were odd, he really _was_ attractive.

You blinked a few times. “Yeah, sure.” You said, smiling in a friendly way. You still wondered at his unusual eyes. No wonder the people in the bar called him _démon_.

“Only beignets? Usually people here order things dat go down burnin’.” He said as he paid from the wad of newly earned cash. “You want _lagniappe_? A lil’ somethin’ more?” He proposed, his smirk never faltering.

“Yeah. That’d be great.” You said, out of character for yourself. You didn’t even drink, so why’d you say that?

“Hm. I bet ya don’t drink much?” He said after he called the bartender over. He had noticed the look of wariness on your face, so he ordered something with low alcohol. “Old Hickory for ma cher, and a Mint Julep for ma’self.” The bartender got busy. “Don’t worry, it don’ got any’a dat hard stuff that I’m used to. You don’t have ta drink it if you don’ want to. Remy never makes any’a de girls do things they don’t like. I felt that a drink is one of the best ways for conversation, no?”

You nodded, smiling. “Remy, huh?” You said, catching his very Cajun name in third person. The bartender gave you you your drinks, and you inspected it.

“The one an’ de only Remy LeBeau.” He said it like it was a title. Remy the Boyfriend. “What’s your name, belle?” He said smoothly, with another French term of endearment.

“__________.” You said, taking a minuscule sip of the drink, a flash of distaste crossing your features. Remy laughed at your reaction, making you smile.

“It’s good to see you smilin’ now. Remy looked at ya _boude’in_  from across the table. I never like to see a pretty girl lookin’ so down. Won’t you tell me what’s troublin’ you?”

Maybe he could help you? “I couldn’t find my way back to my hotel.” You admitted. “I looked for a long time too. Nothing around here is familiar.”

He laughed a little. “It’s pretty easy for someone to get lost in the Vieux Carre, the French Quarter. You ain’t even close to dat area, cher. If you tell me the hotel, I will show you de way.”

“Would you? You probably know the city like the back of your hand.” You smiled. Your had drifted through flash of doubt about whether or not you could trust him, but something in your intuition made you feel like you could. “What’s the price gonna be?” You asked in a flirty tone, although you were kind of serious.

“ _Hm_ , Remy like the way you play. Maybe a _lagniappe_ in return would be nice, no?” He said, slightly suggestive. “You wanna go now? ‘Fore it gets _too_ dark? These streets is filled with magic, good and bad, but the evil _gris-gris_ come out afta’ midnight.” He stood up, abandoning his barely sipped drink. You did the same, telling him the name of your hotel.

Outside, the world smelled like urine, cigarettes, and fried chicken. The eerie sounds of distant music and rowdiness could be heard, like from an old record player. You walked down the street, Remy close by. Soon, you came to a stop in front the weathered, ancient gates of one of the unkempt cemeteries of New Orleans. Through the gates, you could see the ghost-white buildings that housed the dead and kept them out of the wet ground.

“You scared of ghosts, cher? This City o’da Dead has souls from long ago, but I don’t think they’re the ones to worry about.” He said, a bit cryptically. “Some say it’s de voudou kids raisin’ the rougarou, but it’s the muggers that sometimes give ol’ Remy a hard time.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close to his side.

His red eyes seemed to glow in the dark as he spoke. “Just stay close to me an’ everything should go real nice.” He said, that hint of suggestiveness back in his voice.

The cemetery was in a state of ruin, and eerie “XXX”s were marked on some of the larger graves. Being in a normal cemetery was weird enough, thinking of dead people six feet under, but here the dead were a mere foot or two away, separated by a couple inches of mortar and concrete.

Both of you stopped abruptly, listening. It sounded like running footsteps on the soft dirt from nearby. Your heart raced for a second, but you collected yourself, alert and ready for any possible action to come. When you heard the click of a gun from behind you, you turned slowly before assessing the situation.

It was a large man, aiming the gun at Remy’s head. “Hand over your money.” The gun was shaking slightly. You almost rolled your eyes, but instead you jumped away from Remy, kicking the assailant in the chest, knocking him back. You used your powers, stunning the man enough for you to grab the gun from his hand, removing the bullets. He scrambled away as fast as he could.

“__________! Duck!” Remy yelled. Without turning, you did so, and the crack of a bullet sounded and it flew by where your head had been. You saw two more thugs approaching Remy, and you were ready to fight, but Remy held a hand to keep you back.

Reaching into his coat he withdrew two playing cards in between his fingers. With a small flick of his hand, the cards lit up with a red-magenta light, and he flung the cards in the direction of the attackers.

The cards exploded with a smallish detonation, sending the men flying into the side of one of the above-ground tombs. They ran away, cursing and panting. It soon was relatively quiet in the cemetery again, neither you or Remy speaking for a few moments.

“You’re a mutant too.” You said, looking up at him. His eyes, which had been shining the same red-magenta color of the playing cards turned weapons, returned to their normal bright red.

“Of course, cher. Remy also call himself Gambit from time to time.” He said, with some amusement, tilting his head. “You surprised me, __________. Gambit was full on ready to protect you, but you end up protecting Gambit too. I like de strong girls. They make my life unpredictable, just how I enjoy it.”

You smiled, and Remy held you close again, now as a sign of affection rather than one of protection. You continued walking to the other side of the cemetery and back into the streets. A block or two later, you could see your hotel.

“May I escort you up to your room, cher?” He said charmingly. You smiled and showed him the way.

In front of your hotel room door, Remy stood in close proximity of you.

His voice was lower, and in your opinion sexier. “How about a lil’ _lagniappe_ now?” He smirked, his eyes narrowing a bit.

You raised an eyebrow and smiled. You moved to kiss him on the cheek, but his hand went to the back of your head moving it so he could kiss you softly on the mouth. You could feel his stubble and warmth before he let you pulled away. You moved kiss him again, this time rougher and with more passion.

“Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, New York. You’ve probably heard of it. That’s where you can reach me.” You said with a smile, pulling away

He smiled. “Gambit don’t want this to be goodbye. You sure we can’t meet up again tomorrow or somethin’?” His eyes glowed again.

“I don’t see why not. I still got a little time in this city.” You said with a smirk of your own.

“How ‘bout I meet you outside the hotel this time? At noon. Don’t want ya gettin’ lost again.” He said, looking into your eyes.

You agreed, and kissed him on the cheek for real this time. “ _À demain_ , Remy.” You said, employing what little French you knew.

“Au revoir, __________. I got a poker game to get to in a couple minutes. They don’ call me Gambit for nothin’. I look forward to our date, cher.” He said, winking, before walking off. He was happy that he hadn’t used any of his subtle charming persuasion powers, confident that you were as equally interested in him as he was of you.

Your trip to New Orleans was turning out to be quite exciting, and you looked forward to Remy LeBeau making the trip even more exciting. Who knew that getting lost would turn out to be a fun mini-adventure, complete with romance and a little bit of danger? You couldn't wait to see him again.


End file.
